


Sweet Nothing

by Jointhebattle



Series: Inbetween Days [2]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Author will probably regret this tomorrow, Awkwardness, Denial of Feelings, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Fuckbuddies, Perfect Tea Time, Sneaking Around, plot with a porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22578592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jointhebattle/pseuds/Jointhebattle
Summary: Loversis such a strange word for it. We could just befriends;have fun together as we are now. We could have sex. We could help each other with lesson plans–""But surely that would be no different to being–""It would be different," she cut in, "because we wouldn't be in love."
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Seteth
Series: Inbetween Days [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1623028
Comments: 22
Kudos: 184





	Sweet Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I am so sorry that I'm rolling in here like 3 months after I last posted to drop some porn on your doorsteps, but here is the sequel to "Just Like Heaven"
> 
> Again, I hope it will be a satisfying and enjoyable story on it's own, but also I do actually have plans to continue it, I am just a terrible writer because it takes me so long to get a fic together.
> 
> Can I say a massive thank you to everyone who commented on JLH. I really managed to find the motivation to write this because of you guys.

Seteth ran the conversation once more through his mind as he gazed unblinking at the solid oak door of the professor's chamber.

It was true that he had been avoiding her for some weeks; ashamed as he was at his lack of self-control–fraternising with a fellow member of staff; a subordinate, no less. 

Rather than apologising for taking advantage of her in such a reprehensible fashion, he had taken the cowards way out and resolved to act as though the encounter had never even occurred. 

The cathedral bell alerted him to the fact that he had now been standing there, unmoving, for an hour, and his plan for arriving early enough to guarantee secrecy was growing increasingly likely to crumble before they had even exchanged a single word. 

Perhaps tomorrow would be better. Yes. If he delayed any further, Flayn would be sure to miss him at breakfast.

Before he had a moment to gather his thoughts, the door to the neighbouring chamber swung open.

"Seteth?"

Dedue. Seteth was well aware of what he must look like, standing alone outside the professor's door at five in the morning. 

The bags under his eyes had become more pronounced over the past month than they had in the hundred years that came before. His hair was in disarray. He was dressed in nothing more than his undershirt and breeches. 

He ran a hand carelessly through his unkempt hair and forced an approximation of a smile onto his unwilling face, too exhausted to be startled by the student's unexpected appearance.

"Ah, Dedue." He glanced up at the pink morning sky above them in search of something to say. "It is a fine morning for a stroll, would you not say so?"

The boy–more man than boy, truthfully–stood motionless before him, searching Seteth's face in a deeply unsettling way. As though he could see straight through his false levity and into the torment that rippled beneath the facade. 

After a brief, awkward pause, Dedue replied, "I was just heading to the greenhouse to check on my plants before his highness awakes. Do you have business with the professor?"

"I, well–" Did he have business with her? The endless questions that burned in his mind. The crushing guilt. The unfathomable self-loathing. He cleared his throat. "–I suppose… yes. I have something I wished to discuss with her before our faculty meeting this morning."

Dedue nodded thoughtfully. "She is usually awake by this time. Occasionally, she joins me at the greenhouse. I'll just–" 

Before Seteth had a chance to protest, Dedue stepped past him and blithely knocked on the door as though he were completely unaware or indifferent to the fact that he had just caused a ripple that would become a tidal wave which Seteth suddenly realised he was utterly unprepared to face.

Despite the disarray of his jumbled thoughts, he managed a hushed, "my thanks," before the student went on his way and the unmistakable sound of Byleth unlocking her chamber door rang through his brain with a greater resonance than the cathedral bells.

Her face was bright and clear and so, so _young._ Seteth chastised himself for the uninvited way his heart rate picked up at the sight of her. A brief expression of surprise preceded an uncharacteristic grin, and she snatched his hand and pulled him into her chamber before closing and locking the door behind them.

"I thought you were avoiding me," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck without hesitation and pulling him down into an artless kiss.

Seteth froze, the conflicting emotions momentarily rendering him incapable of speech or motion. 

Her soft mouth sliding over his, her tongue tracing the seam of his lips. He was not prepared for the aching need that her scent alone brought out in him. 

His hands went to her hips of their own accord, and he pulled her closer for the briefest moment before loosing his grip and moving to grasp her wrists gently. He took a step back and inhaled through his mouth. 

"Professor…"

She ignored him, intent on merrily removing her garb–nothing more elaborate than a black shirt and shorts at this time in the morning.

Her shirt landed at his feet and Seteth swallowed hard, averting his gaze from her nakedness. 

He picked up the shirt from the floor and crossed the room to pass it back to her. 

"Professor, you misunderstand–"

"You called me by my name before."

She didn't take the shirt. She merely set her hands on her hips and stood before him brazenly, as if she was daring him to look at her. Demanding it.

"I–"

"You _were_ avoiding me. You changed your mind."

He couldn't deny it. He would not do her the disservice of attempting to excuse himself of his cowardice. 

"I took advantage of you, Professor, and for that I can only apologise."

Her features had returned to the expressionless mask that was usual for her, but at that, she quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked. "You took advantage of _me_?"

He dropped his gaze, shamed by her obvious bewilderment, and instantly regretted it as his eyes landed upon her ample breasts. He turned away for a moment and readjusted his breeches. "Who are you, Byleth?" He turned back to face her. "We scarcely even know one another. Rhea never informed me of your appointment before it came to pass. Your father claims you were born after he left Garreg Mach. Is that true?"

She shrugged, and his insufferable brain made him aware of her state of undress once more. 

"If you please, this conversation might be easier if you were clothed."

"Easier for whom?" 

Seteth frowned. "Myself, obviously." 

"And why would I want to make it any easier for you?" She turned away from him and made her way over to a small chest of drawers, revealing the soft pink slit of her womanhood to him as she leaned down to retrieve her attire.

Seteth choked, masking it with a cough, and raised his eyes to wooden beams on the ceiling. "Clearly you have no intention of doing so."

"No."

When he allowed himself to look at her again, she was sitting on her small bed, pulling her pretty patterned stockings up her legs.

"How old are you, precisely?"

She shrugged again. "I'm a woman grown."

"And Jeralt, he is your father?"

"That's what I hear."

"You're toying with me; I would prefer if you would refrain. I am serious, Byleth. You hold a position of responsibility here at the monastery and we must work together. My d–my sister resides within these walls. The children that you are charged with instructing–what I mean to say is, you are obviously skilled in the arts of war, but–"

"But you don't trust me?"

By this time, she had clothed herself up to her hips, but Seteth had no trouble holding her gaze. "That is indeed what it comes down to, yes."

"You don't trust me, but you were happy to go to bed with me?"

"I make no excuse for that, I forgot myself. I apologise, sincerely, and I understand if you wish to–"

"Would you stop that." She pulled on her bodice, much to Seteth's relief, and picked up her coat from the rack by her desk. "Stop talking like I'm some wilting flower you defiled by stepping on it. If I hadn't wanted us to fuck, there is absolutely no way anything would've happened between us."

She leaned on her desk and eyed him with irritation.

"Do you regret it?" she asked.

He thought over the anxiety their dalliance had caused him. The shame. The sleepless nights. 

Then he thought of that evening. The pretty blush that coloured her cheeks. The tentative kiss. The way she had melted beneath his touch. 

It had been so long. _So_ _long_ since he had touched a woman in such a way. Since he'd been kissed on the mouth and looked upon with desire.

"I do not regret it. As much as it shames me."

She snorted. "Save the self-flagellation for the monks, Seteth. We didn't do anything wrong."

"Regardless of that, it was folly."

The cathedral bells tolled the hour, and the conversation was over. They stared at one another in silence for a moment too long.

"I must take my leave. Flayn will be waiting for me in the dining hall shortly, and I am not fit to be seen."

"But you're fit for me to see you?" 

Infuriating. 

"Goodbye, Professor. I shall see you in our meeting with Lady Rhea at the appointed time. I hope you will keep this exchange between us."

"You can trust me on that."

"We shall see."

—

He was late for breakfast, but not by much. Only as much time as it took him to splash water on his face and dress more appropriately after the humiliating but necessary ordeal of a furious masturbation session the moment he was safely inside his chamber.

The dining hall was still almost empty, as it usually was at this time of day. He and Flayn always broke their fast early in the morning, so they would have a chance to speak without the bustle of a hall full of rowdy students.

"You still look unhappy, brother. It's been weeks since this depression took you, and I have noticed no improvement in your mood."

"It is not a depression," he grumbled, pushing a piece of mackerel across his plate distractedly. "If I have been out of sorts, it is merely because I am tired. The extra administrative duties that come along with the appointment of a new instructor–"

Flayn rolled her eyes at him and he frowned. This place was not a good environment for her, she was picking up all sorts of ill behaviour.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me? Flayn, I am–"

"You are in need of a friend." She smiled and took his hand from across the table. "I apologise for my rudeness, but every time I've brought it up, you have used the same excuse of administrative duties regarding the professor, and yet I have not seen the two of you in the same room since before this listlessness overcame you. I'm beginning to believe that it is her absence, rather than her presence, that causes your despondency."

Seteth gaped at her for a moment in silence. When had she become so perceptive? He knew not what to say. "I… I have friends. I have you, my dear sister, and Rhea."

She withdrew her hand and raised an eyebrow at him. "Do not imagine for a moment that we are friends. I love you dearly, but familial affection is not the same as friendship."

That stung a little, but he understood the sentiment. "I see."

"And you cannot rely on your friendship with Lady Rhea, either. You cannot deny that you have grown apart in recent years. I have noticed it worsen even since I joined you here at the monastery."

She was right, of course. The growing distance between he and Rhea had not been a conscious decision on his part, and he still loved her as though they were family, but some of the reckless judgements she had been making of late had left him feeling less than comfortable with his position as her advisor and friend. At times, he found himself wondering if he even knew her at all anymore.

"Perhaps you are right."

"I am right," she said smugly, popping the last piece of fish from his plate into her mouth. "And it is not only you; I must admit that I find the idea of forming new friendships most appealing."

He noticed her eyes drift towards the gaggle of hungry students entering the dining hall for their breakfast. 

"Flayn…"

"I know, I know it all already. It is not safe." She sighed. "But how I long for it."

—

Now that it had been given voice, the tension between he and Rhea was so painfully apparent to Seteth that he felt almost awkward to be alone in the same room as her.

"I would appreciate your support on this decision, Seteth, rather than your counsel."

"You wish me to support your decisions, regardless of whether or not I agree with them?" He clenched his jaw as she looked away, nodding her head ever so slightly whilst retaining that same serene composure that she always held.

"Do you not trust my judgement?" he asked, incredulous. When had he ever given her cause to doubt him?

"If I may speak plainly, I have found you to be distracted of late. But it is not that I don't trust your judgement, rather that I have found the wisdom in trusting my own."

When Byleth entered the audience chamber, it was nothing short of a relief. Her expression was predictably unfathomable, but she met his gaze momentarily–briefly enough to avoid Rhea's notice, but long enough for him to understand her unspoken words.

_I will not break my word._

And he believed her.

—

The week passed without event, and Seteth did not see Byleth again until the following Sunday, when he ran into her outside the Cathedral.

She had sought him out, she admitted, and for the perfectly innocuous reason of inviting him to take tea with her in the walled gardens. 

A chance to settle things between them properly, Seteth thought. 

Seteth _thought_. 

Byleth, it seemed, had other ideas.

"No, we probably don't, I just picked this tea because Flayn told me it was your favourite."

"Oh." He placed his cup back down on the table and pursed his lips. Perhaps they did not have similar taste after all.

"So…" She bit her lower lip and picked up a biscuit, breaking it up in her hands absentmindedly. "This monastery is such a mystery, isn't it? I've heard some really interesting rumours about it if you want to hear them?"

Seteth gripped his knees beneath the table. He could scarcely think of a subject he would like to speak of less. "I rarely put much stock into rumours. The vast majority are baseless ghost stories."

"Ah." She popped a piece of broken biscuit into her mouth and Seteth imagined something sinful.

_Stop that,_ he reminded himself. _You are here to nourish a budding friendship, not lech after an innocent woman._

"You asked me my age when you came to my chamber the other day," she said. 

This was not a particularly favorable subject of conversation, either, but they had to start somewhere. "That's right," he responded, picking up his cup for another sip of tea. 

"Is that why you didn't want to continue our affair?"

He felt the hot tea dribbling down his chin and into his lap before he noticed that he had missed his mouth entirely in the face of the professor's unexpected question. 

"Oh blast," he growled, placing the cup back down on the table with a shaking hand and searching for his napkin only to find it soaked in rapidly cooling tea.

Byleth passed him hers, taking a sip of her own tea while he cleaned himself up. "Does that mean I'm right?" she mused. "You're concerned about the age gap?"

"No, that's not–"

"Because you can't possibly be much over forty. I don't mind it–"

"You think I look forty?" 

She paused and looked him up and down for a moment. "What is your age then, Seteth. I'd love to know."

He really should have seen that one coming. "I am–" He had glanced at himself in the looking glass only this morning. He may be looking a little tired lately, but surely no older than thirty-five. "–I'm thirty."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Five. I'm thirty-five."

"That's amazing," she gasped theatrically.

"You don't believe me?"

She shook her head at him earnestly. "No, no. I truly just think it's _amazing_ that you became Archbishop Rhea's advisor twenty years ago at the tender age of fifteen!"

Seteth groaned. "Ah, yes. You caught me." He chuckled reluctantly. She was sharp. "I am indeed of such a great age that I would prefer not to own it to you."

"Please yourself." She smiled at him conspiratorially and Seteth felt his own features soften in reciprocation.

Despite his initial reservations, he found himself enjoying her company. "I like you very much, professor. I hope we will have more chances to spend time together like this in the future."

"Well, I could think of the perfect way." She said it under her breath, Seteth wasn't entirely sure he had been meant to hear it.

"Professor, you are surely not suggesting again that we should become lovers?"

"I didn't say that."

Of course. Foolish of him to have inferred such a thing.

" _Lovers_ is such a strange word for it. We could just be _friends;_ have fun together as we are now. We could have sex. We could help each other with lesson plans–"

"But surely that would be no different to being–"

"It would be different," she cut in, "because we wouldn't be in love."

—

The experience of the past month had taught him nothing.

Absolutely nothing. 

She dropped her coat on the floor as soon as she entered his chamber.

"And you say this will not mean anything. No feelings." Even as he said the words, he knew it to be impossible, but the promise of no ties–no attachments between them–was inticing.

She had asked him what his reservations were, regarding their affair, and he had not disclosed to her his greatest concern. 

His privacy, and subsequently, Flayn's safety. Letting someone into his life was an enormous risk, he was aware. But denying himself his base urges was unnatural, and already it was affecting his day to day life to the point that his daughter had noticed.

"It means nothing." She wrapped her arms around his neck in the same way she had days before, and looked up into his eyes. "I'm not even sure that I can...you know..."

Rather than kiss her, he leaned down and pressed his face to her neck, inhaling deeply. Indulging himself in the scent of her skin without restraint. 

"You're not sure you can, what?" he asked, only half focused on the words as he pressed her up against the wall and planted messy, desperate kisses from her collarbone to her jaw.

"Fall in love," she replied breathlessly. 

He kissed her then, deeply on the lips, while they scrambled to remove their clothes.

There was no hesitancy this time–no patience, only urgency. 

"Hilda said it's like falling off a cliff. Or a feeling of tightness in your chest whenever you think of a person," she said, shucking her shorts down her legs and into a pile on the floor.

"Hilda–" He pulled his shirt off straight over his head, unwilling to lose time on more buttons. "–is a fool."

He scooped her up into his arms and she laughed, wrapping her legs around his waist instinctively. There was no need to, but Seteth carried her to his bed, capturing her mouth once more in a kiss as they tumbled down onto the soft mattress together.

"True love is not something you fall into, Byleth." He caressed her face gently as she gazed up at him, the desperation of their initial reunion stilled for a moment. "It is not a burning flame of passion, nor is it the exhilaration of a risky endeavor.

"Love is a feeling of warmth and calm. Of security and of comfort. Rather than falling into it, you grow into it without even realising."

He shivered as she ran her cool fingers over his chest. It had not occurred to him that this would be the first time he had bared himself to her so completely, and so he sat back on his knees to give her a chance to sate her curiosity. 

"Even the hair on your chest is green," she murmured as she ran her hands over the light dusting of hair on his pectoral muscles. 

"If that shocks you, you may not wish to look any further south," he said, stifling a soft chuckle.

She ignored his jest and continued to examine his body with her fingers, making her way down his torso at an agonising pace.

"This scar was from a deep wound." She ran her index finger over the silvery mark on his skin just below his heart. "You were lucky."

"Yes, that was from a battle long ago." 

She only hummed in reply, leaning down briefly to press a kiss into the marred skin. 

By this time, his arousal was heightened almost to the point of pain. Just watching and feeling this beautiful woman look at his body, touching and kissing him as she went. 

It was too much, and Seteth took himself in hand to try to find some relief.

"I'm sorry," he gasped, pushing her onto her back suddenly and crowding her between his arms. "Please, I beg you, allow me to touch you."

She shrugged against the pillows. "That's why I'm here."

His body demanded that he take her immediately. He fought the animalistic urge to shaft himself inside her roughly and moved down the bed, hooking her knees over his shoulders so he could take in the heady scent of her bare cunt. 

She was perfect. _Perfect._ He buried his face between her legs and groaned at the taste of her arousal on his tongue. 

Perhaps his action startled her, because her thighs tightened around his ears and she squealed in surprise, but as he swept his tongue over her sensitive spot in a broad stroke, she relaxed beneath him and let out a hoarse moan.

He pushed a finger inside her, internally preening at how easily his digit slid into her tight body, but she was still so small. It was little wonder she had complained of pain during coupling before.

The feeling of her hand reaching his hair and tugging him closer spiked his enthusiasm and he grunted at the slight pain it caused. 

He added another finger and circled her sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue, relishing in the wanton noises she made in response.

When he felt the pulse of her orgasm rip through her, he pulled away, allowing her some space from his touch, lest she become overwhelmed, but she reached for him instead, and he let himself be pulled down by her into a heady kiss.

"Please," she whispered urgently when they separated. "Seteth, I need you."

He knew what she meant, and the feeling was mutual. 

There was the urge once more to bury himself inside her and gracelessly fuck her into the mattress until she screamed.

He resisted it.

Instead, he pressed the tip of his erection carefully as he could bear into her entrance, utilizing every modicum of restraint he could manage.

His breathing was laboured with the effort of holding himself back, but he held himself up on one arm and brushed a sweat soaked lock of hair out of her face to see her expression clearly. 

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright and lucid, and he smoothed out the tiny worry line that had appeared between her brows with his thumb.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked raggedly. 

"No, please–" She gripped one of his thighs and pulled him closer. "–you can, it feels good."

She was so tight that sinking into her was the most beautiful kind of torment. 

For a moment, his vision clouded and he cursed blindly at the unbridled ecstasy he felt. 

This would never be enough. 

Once would never be enough. 

A thousand years would not be enough.

"I'm sorry," he muttered brokenly in her ear as rutted into her harder than he intended. "I am so sorry. I'll try to be more careful."

It was impossible. 

He fucked her relentlessly until her gasps of pleasure faded into heavy breaths, then he pulled out and released his spend onto her taut stomach. 

"I'm sorry, I couldn't–"

She silenced him with such an achingly tender kiss that Seteth forgot for a sweet moment that this was not real. That she did not love him, nor did he love her.

For a sweet moment, this was everything.

—

For the first time since he had taken up his post at Garreg Mach, the sound of plates clattering and kitchen staff gossiping in the dining hall did not grate on his ears as he took his breakfast.

How he had never noticed that one of the cooks had a beautiful singing voice, he would never know.

"You seem happy today, brother."

Seteth glanced up from his full breakfast plate and smiled at Flayn. "Do I?"

She nodded. "I heard you had tea with the professor yesterday. Did I not tell you her friendship would be a positive influence on you?" 

He placed his fork down on the plate and took a sip of water. "Mm, yes. I seem to remember you saying something to that effect. Would you pass the salt, please?"

"Do you not wish to speak of it?" She handed him the salt dish. "I am eager to hear, did you smile for her? You really do not do that enough."

"I was perfectly charming." He grimaced slightly, wishing desperately for this discussion to end. 

"How I envy you." She sighed. "The beauty of a budding friendship is truly one of the most exciting happenings in this world. Perhaps second only to a budding romance."

The sparkling wonderment in her eyes made Seteth's stomach lurch uncomfortably. 

"I seem to have suddenly lost my appetite." He pushed his plate across the table towards her.

He thought of the woman still likely asleep in his bed and wondered if he should have roused her before he left.

**Author's Note:**

> Byleth charm ++++++++++++++
> 
> I am on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/situationnorma1?s=09)  
> and [Tumblr](https://jointhebattle.tumblr.com/?s=09) come and say hi!


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